


Short Tails

by DebraHicks



Series: Pros / Dangermouse [2]
Category: Danger Mouse (TV), The Professionals
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-24
Updated: 2011-04-24
Packaged: 2017-10-18 15:15:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/190218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DebraHicks/pseuds/DebraHicks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bodie and Penfold share an evening of Scotch and stories.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Short Tails

Short Tails

I hate sleeping alone almost as much as I hate being on the  
injured list. Right now I was doing both thanks to one of our  
overzealous new recruits, (They get thicker every year.) The worst  
of it was that while I was home nursing a sprained wrist Doyle was  
running about the Scottish countryside looking for a cache of  
hidden weapons. Cowley did that to us on purpose, seems to think I  
wouldn't rest my arm with Ray about. Old bastard should know I'm  
just as talented with my left as I am with my right.

  
Wondering what time it was I tossed over. There was something  
brown and furry on the pillow next to me. Letting out a startled  
yell (a small one) I rolled off the side of the bed, grabbing my  
gun as I went. I hate rats.

  
Three things stopped me from shooting the beast. First of all  
the neighbors might not appreciate a Browning 9 mm going off at  
midnight, secondly, the bed was covered with Ray's brand new silk  
sheets and putting a hole in them would get me in deep shit and  
lastly, when I peeked back over the edge of the bed there were two  
familiar brown eyes peeking back from the other side.

  
"Crumbs! Mr. Bodie, you gave me a turn!"

  
"Penfold!" I stood up, uncocking the gun. "What the hell are  
you doing here?" I groaned inwardly. This was all I needed.  
"Where's the mouse?"

  
Penfold crawled back up, straightened his tie, sat down on  
Doyle's pillow. "On holiday in the Virgin Isles."

  
That made sense. I was stuck in a cold London flat with a  
sprained wrist, with the man I loved hiking around the equally cold  
Scottish moors while a six inch high, white, one-eyed rodent spy  
holidayed in the Virgin Isles. Perfectly fair.

  
"So, then, what brings you here?" I asked cautiously, "Not on a  
mission, are you?"

  
"No." He answered with the ridiculously cute whistle. "Heard  
you were under the weather. Thought I'd pop by and see how you  
were getting along."

  
That took me by surprise. Feeling a little guilty at my  
suspicion of his motives I sat down opposite him on the bed. "I  
appreciate the thought." My suspicions returned. "Doyle didn't  
put you up to this did he?" It was the sort of thing Ray would do.  
It might be a nice thought but I was now stuck with entertaining a  
hamster in the middle of the night.

  
"No, the only person who knows I'm here is Colonel K. I'm on  
standby." He added proudly.

  
Well, he was a fellow agent, so I decided to treat him like  
one. "Anything in your rules against a ma...ham...person having a  
drink while on standby?" I inquired. About then this mischievous  
little voice in the back of my mind reminded me about the story I  
still hadn't heard. How had DM saved Ray's life?

  
Truthfully, the little voice (which I tend to listen to a lot)  
was doing more than that. It came up with the soon-to-be answered  
question - How much can a hamster drink before he starts talking?

 

Two hours later what coherent thoughts I could put together all  
lead to the same sad conclusion - it was time to join a monastery.  
I was being drunk under the table by four inch high furball. It  
didn't matter that I was using a shot glass and he was using a cut  
down pen cap. (It was the best I could do on short notice. Get it  
\- short notice.) Body weight for body weight, sip for sip I was  
getting pissed quicker than Penfold was.

  
On top of that I was being out yarned. It seemed that DM and  
Penfold had certainly had their share of bizarre missions. I mean  
\- vampire ducks? I was running out of ways to top him. My stories  
for the past hour had all been lifted from old issues of Batman.

  
"So then," His whistle got worse when he was drinking, "how's  
Mr. Doyle?"

  
I wasn't so far gone that I didn't know an opening when it  
jumped up at me, as long as it jumped high enough. "He's fine.  
Finally got him to tell how you three met. What he could remember  
that is."

  
"Crumbs! I'm not surprised he doesn't remember. What with  
getting hit by the Baron's car, knocked cold then..." He stuttered  
to a stop. "Oi...Mr. Bodie you are a scoundrel. You're trying to  
get me to talk."

  
I gave him my best smile, the one Ray claims I could get  
arrested for. "Would I do that?"

  
He looked doubtful for a moment then he giggled, pushed his  
glasses back up his nose. "All you had to do was ask. Tat's been  
declassified."

  
It was a good thing I was mostly numb. It helped when I beat  
my head against the edge of the table. I stared at the half-empty  
bottle of my best stuff, thought vaguely of the hangover I was  
going to have in the morning and thumped the table again, a little  
harder. All I had to do was ask. Gathering my shreds of dignity I  
straightened up and asked very calmly (to keep from yelling,) "How  
did DM save Doyle's life?"

  
He loosened his tie a little more, took another sip. "The  
Chief and I were on a mission to ssop the Baron, Baron  
Greenback..."

  
"Yeh." I remembered the name.

  
"From stealing the Chantau Diamond. The Baron got there first  
but tripped one of the alarms. Mr. Doyle was the cop...police  
officer on beat so he came running. Well, he was running this  
way," He gestured to his left, "and the Baron was flying this  
way," He gestured to his right, "and they sort of..."

  
"Met in the middle." I supplied.

  
"With a bang!" He made an arch with one hand, rolling all the  
way over with it, giggling as he went. (At least I wasn't  
giggling. Yet.) "Knocked Mr. Doyle for six. Played havoc with the  
Baron's car, too. Threw him and the diamond completely out. DM  
hopped out and nabbed the Baron."

  
His voice was getting a bit slower, which was okay because my  
hearing was just keeping up. "Then?" I urged.

  
"Right, well everything would have been fine if this gang of  
villians hadn't come round the corner just then. Me and the Chief  
ducked back into to a shadow but they spotted the diamond, and Mr.  
Doyle. Handcuffed him they did, with his own cuffs, then dumped  
him in a dust bin and locked it sound."

  
He took another sip, frowned. "Don't get involved with humans,  
that's the rule. But the gang started arguing over taking your  
mate as hostage."

  
Penfold dropped his voice into a fair imitation of his partner.  
"'We can't endanger another law enforcement officer through  
inaction, Penfold.' The Chief said. So we crawled into the bin  
through a hole in the side. DM introduced himself to Mr. Doyle  
and cut him loose." He giggled again. "Don't know who was more  
surprised - your mate when the Chief started talking or us when Mr.  
Doyle turned out to be a bloke."

  
I'll admit, it took a minute. "What? Why would you think Ray  
was..."

  
"Well he was wearing a dress. Floor length, green satin. Pity  
about it getting ruined."

  
There is a Santa Claus. There is justice in the world. There  
may even be a Lord in his heaven. Penfold had just changed my  
whole outlook on the world. Ray in a dress! This was better than  
Godiva chocolate. This was better than Towser accidently shooting  
Macklin in the ass. This was better than the time me and Ray got  
it off on the Cow's desk.

  
There was a perfectly good explanation for a male copper to be  
in drag, I knew that; mugging duty, rape bait, any number of  
reasons. I didn't care. I had the little sod this time.

  
"Looks good in a dress, does he?" Doyle in a dress, hum? Nah,  
that was too kinky even for me.

  
"Crumbs, yes! Fooled us and the villians. They even searched  
him, must have missed the naughty bits." Can hamsters blush? He  
broke into serious mirth this time. "Your mates a regular tornado  
when he gets going, too. Came out of that bin so fast that mob of  
hooligans didn't know what hit 'em."

  
"Got the whole bunch single handed, did he?" I looked a little  
closer at him. "Is that a new suit?"

  
"No. I mean, yes. Yes, it is a new suit and no, he didn't get  
them single handed. DM and I helped. Seemed fair, seeing as he'd  
been the one to stop the Baron." He yawned. "Do you like it?

  
"That's one of the bess stories I've ever heard." I was being  
quiet truthful in that. Now all I had to do was figure out the  
best way to get Ray with it.

  
"Not the story." Penfold whistled. "The suit."

  
"Oh. Yeah. Looks quite distinguished." I blinked at him.  
"Looks good on your mate, too."

  
Eyes that had started out a brighter brown squinted up at me  
from behind the round glasses. "What mate, mate?"

  
"The other hamster. Should have done introductions, Penfold."  
I scolded.

  
"You're drunk." He sounded serious. He tried to stand up, sat  
down with a good thump. In a very surprised squeak he said, "So'm  
I."

  
I nodded, not a very wise move. "Well, given that you and I  
are both pissed and the other bloke doesn't seem very friendly I  
guess you're stuck here until morning."

  
"Oh, crumbs, yes." Penfold nodded enthusiastically, also  
deciding, from his look, that it was a bad idea. "Can't go driving  
about drunk."

  
I took the bed. He took the pillow on the settee.

 

Have you ever heard a phone through the hangover brought on by  
half a bottle of very good Scotch? At 6:00 am? When you're suppose  
to be on sick leave? That monastery was looking better all the  
time.

  
I reached over, picked up what I hoped was the phone and tried  
to answer in a fairly lucid manner. "Um?"

  
"Bodie?"

  
The voice was loud, the voice was accented and the voice was  
familiar. Cowley. Three options (my usual number) came to me; tell  
him which monastery to send my things to, tell him in no uncertain  
terms what he could do with the phone or hang up. The receiver was  
half-way to the cradle when the thought that Doyle might be in  
trouble sobered me up. I jerked the phone back.

  
"Yes, sir." I held my breath, waiting for the news.

  
"Where is he?" Cowley asked.

  
Through the buzzing in my head I managed one thought - I had no  
idea what he was talking about. "Who's that, sir?"

  
"Penfold! Where is he?" Cowley demanded.

  
I have never been known to be at a loss for words. Something  
Ray takes no little enjoyment in reminding me. At that moment in  
time, with Major George Cowley on the other end of the line asking  
me about a missing hamster and said missing hamster sleeping on my  
settee I could no more have said something than Maggie Tatcher  
could have been voted Miss Argentina.

  
"Bodie? Answer me."

  
"Uh, yes sir."

  
"Well?"

  
"Uh, the, that is..." I was so coherent it was scary. "the  
ham...Penfold is asleep on my settee, sir"

  
"Well get him off your settee and have him report to Colonel K  
right away."

  
I made it to a sitting position. "He's on standby."

  
"He's on duty now." The Cow, very patiently for the Cow,  
explained, "Colonel K needs him back."

  
"Well, sir, seeing as how we were both off duty last night...we  
did a little drinking." Little? Little like World War II was a  
little misunderstanding.

  
"Just get him moving." I know it was drunken illusion but I  
thought I heard amusement in the old man's voice.

  
"I'll have him on the road right away, sir." The reality  
(Unreality?) of the conversation hit me. "You know Penfold!?"

  
"Of course I know Penfold." The Cow's snap nearly did me in.  
"Who do you think let out that you might could do with some  
company? Do you think Special Branch is the only secret  
organization I deal with? Now get that hamster out of there."

  
I hung the phone up very gently. A small, fuzzy (actually  
everything was fuzzy) brown shape jumped up on the night table.  
"Good morning, Mr. Bodie." Penfold's voice had gotten very loud for  
such a small rodent. He was smiling, I think, it was hard to tell  
with the blurring effect he was managing.

  
"Colonel K needs you back." I hoped I looked better than I  
sounded. I had to, or they would have hauled me away by now.

  
"Oh my. Well, got to run. Duty calls, off to save the world and  
all that."

  
I had a hangover, a boss who talked to terriers who happened to  
run super secret spy organizations and my partner wasn't due back  
until tomorrow. Now, to top it all off I had a bright, sunny,  
high-pitched, suited (thankfully not tweed) hamster smiling at me.  
I moaned.

  
He pushed his glasses up, peered at me closely. "Cor, you look  
worse than Mr. Doyle did when he and the Chief went on their  
binge."

  
"How come you're so cheerful?" I croaked.

  
"Crumbs! Hamsters don't get hangovers."

  
"Hamsters don't get..." I should have shot the little blighter  
last night. His earlier statement sank through to whatever remained  
working under the bells in my head. "Binge? DM and Doyle?"

  
"Ta for the drink, mate." He scrambled out the window, dropped  
into the hovering car. "Tallyho!"

  
"Penfold! Wait! What binge?" I stuck my head out the window.

  
"Penfold!"

  
I was right before - there is no justice in the world.


End file.
